THE TOGA VIRILIS.
But the transformations of the slave were not yet ended. The time
came when he was permitted to become a citizen. For two years he
had led an inchoate, nondescript sort of existence: free without
power or right; neither slave nor freeman; neither property nor
citizen. He had been, meanwhile, a bone of contention between the
Provisional Governments of the States and the military power which
controlled them. The so-called State Governments dragged him toward
the whipping-post and the Black Codes and serfdom. They denied
him his oath, fastened him to the land, compelled him to hire by
the year, required the respectfulness of the old slave "Mahs'r"
and "Missus," made his employer liable for his taxes, and allowed
recoupment therefor; limited his avocations and restricted his
opportunities. These would substitute serfdom for chattelism.
On the other hand the Freedman's Bureau acted as his guardian and
friend, looked after his interests in contracts, prohibited the
law's barbarity, and insisted stubbornly that the freedman was
a man, and must be treated as such. It needed only the robe of
citizenship, it was thought, to enable him safely to dispense with
the one of these agencies and defy the other. So the negro was
transformed into a citizen, a voter, a political factor, by act of
Congress, with the aid and assistance of the military power.
A great crowd had gathered at the little town of Melton, which was
one of the chief places of the county of Horsford, for the people
had been duly notified by official advertisement that on this day
the board of registration appointed by the commander of the military
district in which Horsford County was situated would convene there,
to take and record the names, and pass upon the qualifications,
of all who desired to become voters of the new body politic which
was to be erected therein, or of the old one which was to be
reconstructed and rehabilitated out of the ruins which war had
left.
The first provision of the law was that every member of such board
of registration should be able to take what was known in those
days as the "iron-clad oath," that is, an oath that he had never
engaged in, aided, or abetted any rebellion against the Government
of the United States. Men who could do this were exceedingly
difficult to find in some sections. Of course there were abundance
of colored men who could take this oath, but not one in a thousand
of them could read or write. The military commander determined,
however, to select in every registration district one of the most
intelligent of this class, in order that he might look after the
interests of his race, now for the first time to take part in any
public or political movement. This would greatly increase the
labors of the other members of the board, yet was thought not only
just but necessary. As the labor of recording the voters of a county
was no light one, especially as the lists had to be made out in
triplicate, it was necessary to have some clerical ability on the
board. These facts often made the composition of these boards
somewhat heterogeneous and peculiar. The one which was to register
the voters of Horsford consisted of a little old white man, who had
not enough of stamina or character to have done or said anything
in aid of rebellion, and who, if he had done the very best he knew,
ought yet to have been held guiltless of evil accomplished. In his
younger days he had been an overseer, but in his later years had
risen to the dignity of a landowner and the possession of one or
two slaves. He wrestled with the mysteries of the printed page with
a sad seriousness which made one regret his inability to remember
what was at the top until he had arrived at the bottom. Writing
was a still more solemn business with him, but he was a brave man
and would cheerfully undertake to transcribe a list of names, which
he well knew that anything less than eternity would be too short
to allow him to complete. He was a small, thin-haired, squeaky-voiced
bachelor of fifty, and as full of good intentions as the road to
perdition. If Tommy Glass ever did any evil it would not only be
without intent but from sheer accident.
With Tommy was associated an old colored man, one of those known
in that region as "old-issue free-niggers." Old Pharaoh Ray was a
venerable man. He had learned to read before the Constitution of
1835 deprived the free-negro of his vote, and had read a little
since. He wore an amazing pair of brass-mounted spectacles. His
head was surmounted by a mass of snowy hair, and he was of erect
and powerful figure despite the fact that he boasted a life of more
than eighty years. He read about as fast and committed to memory
more easily than his white associate, Glass. In writing they were
about a match; Pharaoh wrote his name much more legibly than Glass
could, but Glass accomplished the task in about three fourths of
the time required by Pharaoh.
The third member of the board was Captain Theron Pardee, a young
man who had served in the Federal army and afterward settled
in an adjoining county. He was the chairman. He did the writing,
questioning, and deciding, and as each voter had to be sworn he
utilized his two associates by requiring them to administer the
oaths and--look wise. The colored man in about two weeks learned
these oaths so that he could repeat them. The white man did not
commit the brief formulas in the four weeks they were on duty.
The good people of Melton were greatly outraged that this composite
board should presume to come and pass upon the qualifications of
its people as voters under the act of Congress, and indeed it was
a most ludicrous affair. The more they contemplated the outrage
that was being done to them, by decreeing that none should vote
who had once taken an oath to support the Government of the United
States and afterward aided the rebellion, the angrier they grew,
until finally they declared that the registration should not
be held. Then there were some sharp words between the ex-Federal
soldier and the objectors. As no house could be procured for the
purpose, he proposed to hold the registration on the porch of the
hotel where he stopped, but the landlord objected. Then he proposed to
hold it on the sidewalk under a big tree, but the town authorities
declared against it. However, he was proceeding there, when
an influential citizen kindly came forward and offered the use
of certain property under his control. There was some clamor, but
the gentleman did not flinch. Thither they adjourned, and the work
went busily on. Among others who came to be enrolled as citizens
was our old friend Nimbus.
"Where do you live?" asked the late Northern soldier sharply, as
Nimbus came up in. his turn in the long line of those waiting for
the same purpose.
"Down ter Red Wing, sah?"
"Where's that?"
"Oh, right down h'yer on Hyco, sah."
"In this county?"
"Oh, bless yer, yes, Mister, should tink hit was. Hit's not above
five or six miles out from h'yer."
"How old are you?"
"Wal, now, I don't know dat, not edzactly."
"How old do you think--twenty-one?"
"Oh, la, yes; more nor dat, Cap'."
"Born where?"
"Right h'yer in Horsford, sah."
"What is your name?"
"Nimbus."
"Nimbus what?" asked the officer, looking up.
"Nimbus nothin', sah; jes' straight along Nimbus."
"Well, but--" said the officer, looking puzzled, "you must have
some sort of surname."
"No, sah, jes' one; nigger no use for two names."
"Yah! yah! yah!" echoed the dusky crowd behind him. "You's jes'
right dah, you is! Niggah mighty little use fer heap o' names. Jes'
like a mule--one name does him, an' mighty well off ef he's 'lowed
ter keep dat."
"His name's Desmit," said a white man, the sheriff of the county,
who stood leaning over the railing; "used to belong to old Potem
Desmit, over to Louisburg. Mighty good nigger, too. I s'pec' ole
man Desmit felt about as bad at losing him as ary one he had."
"Powerful good hand in terbacker," said Mr. Glass, who was himself an
expert in "yaller leaf." "Ther' wasn't no better ennywhar' round."
"I knows all about him," said another. "Seed a man offer old Desmit
eighteen hundred dollars for him afore the war--State money--but
he wouldn't tech it. Reckon he wishes he had now."
"Yes," said the sheriff, "he's the best curer in the county. Commands
almost any price in the season, but is powerful independent, and
gittin' right sassy. Listen at him now?"
"They say your name is Desmit--Nimbus Desmit," said the officer;
"is that so?"
"No, tain't."
"Wasn't that your old master's name?" asked the sheriff roughly.
"Co'se it war," was the reply.
"Well, then, ain't it yours too?"
"No, it ain't."
"Well, you just ask the gentleman if that ain't so," said the
sheriff, motioning to the chairman of the board.
"Well," said that officer, with a peculiar smile, "I do not know
that there is any law compelling a freedman to adopt his former
master's name. He is without name in the law, a pure _nullius
filius_--nobody's son. As a slave he had but one name.
He _could_ have no surname, because he had no family. He
was arraigned, tried, and executed as 'Jim' or 'Bill' or 'Tom.'
The volumes of the reports are full of such cases, as The State
_vs._ 'Dick' or 'Sam.' The Roman custom was for the freedman
to take the name of some friend, benefactor, or patron. I do not
see why the American freedman has not a right to choose his own
surname."
"That is not the custom here," said the sheriff, with some chagrin,
he having begun the controversy.
"Very true," replied the chairman; "the custom--and a very proper
and almost necessary one it seems--is to call the freedman by a
former master's name. This distinguishes individuals. But when the
freedman refuses to acknowledge the master's name as his, who can
impose it on him? We are directed to register the names of parties,
and while we might have the right to refuse one whom we found
attempting to register under a false name, yet we have no power
to make names for those applying. Indeed, if this man insists that
he has but one name, we must, for what I can see, register him by
that alone."
His associates looked wise, and nodded acquiescence in the views
thus expressed.
"Den dat's what I chuse," said the would-be voter. "My name's
Nimbus--noffin' mo'."
"But I should advise you to take another name to save trouble
when you come to vote," said the chairman. His associates nodded
solemnly again.
"Wal, now, Marse Cap'n, you jes' see h'yer. I don't want ter carry
nobody's name widout his leave. S'pose I take ole Marse War's name
ober dar?"
"You can take any one you choose. I shall write down the one you
give me."
"Is you willin', Marse War'?"
"I've nothing to do with it, Nimbus," said Ware; "fix your own
name."
"Wal sah," said Nimbus, "I reckon I'll take dat ef I must hev enny
mo' name. Yer see he wuz my ole oberseer, Mahs'r, an' wuz powerful
good ter me, tu. I'd a heap ruther hev his name than Marse Desmit's;
but I don't _want_ no name but Nimbus, nohow.
"All right," said the chairman, as he made the entry. "Ware it is
then."
As there might be a poll held at Red Wing, where Nimbus lived, he
was given a certificate showing that _Nimbus Ware_ had been
duly registered as an elector of the county of Horsford and for
the precinct of Red Wing.
Then the newly-named Nimbus was solemnly sworn by the patriarchal
Pharaoh to bear true faith and allegiance to the government of the
United States, and to uphold its constitution and the laws passed
in conformity therewith; and thereby the recent slave became a
component factor of the national life, a full-fledged citizen of
the American Republic.
As he passed out, the sheriff said to those about him, in a low
tone,
"There'll be trouble with that nigger yet. He's too sassy. You'll
see."
"How so?" asked the chairman. "I thought you said he was industrious,
thrifty, and honest."
"Oh, yes," was the reply, "there ain't a nigger in the county got
a better character for honesty and hard work than he, but he's too
important--has got the big head, as we call it."
"I don't understand what you mean," said the chairman.
"Why he ain't respectful," said the other. "Talks as independent
as if he was a white man."
"Well, he has as much right to talk independently as a white man.
He is just as free," said the chairman sharply.
"Yes; but he ain't white," said the sheriff doggedly, "and our
people won't stand a nigger's puttin' on such airs. Why, Captain,"
he continued in a tone which showed that he felt that the fact he
was about to announce must carry conviction even to the incredulous
heart of the Yankee officer. "You just ought to see his place down
at Red Wing. Damned if he ain't better fixed up than lots of white
men in the county. He's got a good house, and a terbacker-barn,
and a church, and a nigger school-house, and stock, and one of
the finest crops of terbacker in the county. Oh, I tell you, he's
cutting a wide swath, he is." "You don't tell me," said the
chairman with interest. "I am glad to hear it. There appears to
be good stuff in the fellow. He seems to have his own ideas about
things, too."
"Yes, that's the trouble," responded the sheriff. "Our people
ain't used to that and won't stand it. He's putting on altogether
too much style for a nigger."
"Pshaw," said the chairman, "if there were more like him it would
be better for everybody. A man like him is worth something for
an example. If all the race were of his stamp there would be more
hope."
"The devil!" returned the sheriff, with a sneering laugh, "if they
were all like him, a white man couldn't live in the country. They'd
be so damned sassy and important that we'd have to kill the last
one of 'em to have any peace."
"Fie, sheriff," laughed the chairman good-naturedly; "you seem to
be vexed at the poor fellow for his thrift, and because he is doing
well."
"I am a white man, sir; and I don't like to see niggers gittin'
above us. Them's my sentiments," was the reply. "And that's the
way our people feel."
There was a half-suppressed murmur of applause among the group of
white men at this. The chairman responded,
"No doubt, and yet I believe you are wrong. Now, I can't help
liking the fellow for his sturdy manhood. He may be a trifle too
positive, but it is a good fault. I think he has the elements of
a good citizen, and I can't understand why you feel so toward him."
There were some appreciative and good-natured cries of "Dar now,"
"Listen at him," "Now you're talkin'," from the colored men at this
reply.
"Oh, that's because you're a Yankee," said the sheriff, with
commiserating scorn. "You don't think, now, that it's any harm to
talk that way before niggers and set them against the white people
either, I suppose?"
The chairman burst into a hearty laugh, as he replied,
"No, indeed, I don't. If you call that setting the blacks against
the whites, the sooner they are by the ears the better. If you
are so thin-skinned that you can't allow a colored man to think,
talk, act, and prosper like a man, the sooner you get over your
squeamishness the better. For me, I am interested in this Nimbus.
We have to go to Red Wing and report on it as a place for holding
a poll and I am bound to see more of him."
"Oh, you'll see enough of him if you go there, never fear," was
the reply.
There was a laugh from the white men about the sheriff, a sort
of cheer from the colored men in waiting, and the business of the
board went on without further reference to the new-made citizen.
The slave who had been transformed into a "contraband" and
mustered as a soldier under one name, married under another, and
now enfranchised under a third, returned to his home to meditate
upon his transformations--as we found him doing in our first chapter.
The reason for these metamorphoses, and their consequences, might
well puzzle a wiser head than that of the many-named but unlettered
Nimbus.